


Exhibits

by abigail89



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-01
Updated: 2012-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 11:24:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigail89/pseuds/abigail89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two old Quidditch pals hook up in a very real way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exhibits

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to my lovely beta readers magicofisis and aome whose wisdom and sharp eyes made this ever so much better. Written for the Erotic Elves 'Love is Everywhere' fest and challenge on LJ, March 2008

The crowd surrounding the makeshift bar and food table closed in tightly. The reception for the opening of the new season of the All-England Quidditch Leagure certainly drew a huge number of players, coaches, reporters and fans. The café of the Museum of Quidditch, while an appropriate setting for such a star-studded occasion, was a bit small for the large gathering. 

Alicia Spinnet, All-North American League Chaser, First Class, carefully held her wine glass close to her body, hoping not to spill it on her favorite silk cocktail dress, the one that fit so perfectly and brought out the blue of her eyes. She’d put extra care into her appearance this evening, even putting on some make-up, something she rarely did. But seeing as it was the first event as a new member of the Montrose Magpies, she wanted to look her best, and her sexiest. She navigated behind two men, who were waving their arms wildly about and laughing uproariously. She held the glass over her head—just a few more metres until she’d be free…

“Alicia?!”

She turned her head slightly at the sound of her name spoken by a familiar voice. Waving excitedly at her from just outside the sea of pressing humanity was Oliver Wood. He stepped closer to the crowd, holding out his hand to guide her through the last of the throng.

“Oliver! She fell into his arms and he returned a long hard hug.

“Merlin, it’s been ages since I’ve seen you. Let me look at you!” He pushed her back, holding her hand. “You look fantastic! Exile to the North American League certainly helped you make a name for yourself.” His hand lingered in hers.

Alicia took note of his appearance too. He was slightly taller, still burly through the chest and shoulders, but narrower through the hips. He wore a bright kilt, which showed off nicely toned calves even though they were covered by knee-high stockings. She noticed the slight thrill that ran through her. “Thank you,” she said with a touch of amazement that Oliver would’ve kept up with her. “The last four years have been very good. I learned a helluva lot, got a lot of play time, and I absolutely adored living in San Francisco.”

“Well, it’s agreed with you in all ways,” Oliver said, his eyes shining with appreciation. “Yes, indeed. But I’m very glad you’re back here with us, where you belong.”

She smiled widely. “Why, Oliver! I never knew you cared so much.”

“Only when our beautiful and talented witches feel they have to go far from our shores to make a name for themselves.”

“Thank you. It’s really good to be back home.” Oliver’s flirtatious comments and attentiveness, not to mention his warm thumb mindlessly caressing her palm, were intoxicating. She’d always liked him when at Hogwarts and, like most of the girls in her year, had had a bit of a crush on him back then. He was handsome and tall, with a brilliant smile. Of course, being English, she had a fond liking for men with a Scottish accent too. Get a grip, girl! This is Oliver ‘Mister-I-Never-Think-About-Anything-But-Quidditch’ Wood here. Yeah, he’s grown up and looking fine, but he’s still Oliver. Or, is he?

“Let’s grab a table over there so we’ll be more comfortable,” Oliver said, lightly taking her elbow to guide her to one of the café tables near the open expanse of windows.

“Here, save us this one while I get us some fresh drinks. And you’re having?”

“Pinot grigio.”

“Oooh, look at you with the fancy wine.” He gave her a cheeky smile.

“Not in California it isn’t. It’s just your basic white table wine back in the Bay Area.”

“Well, we’ll see if we can’t get you back to drinking good old British Wizarding swill, eh? Be back in a second.”

As he turned to make his way back towards the bar, his kilt twirled, revealing obscenely toned thighs. Alicia strained to get a good view, but he was engulfed by the crowd and she lost sight of him.

_Damn. Oliver._ It had been a while since the last good shag, but Oliver? His hands had that wiry strong grip all good flyers possessed, and those legs…legs had always been her weakness. How many blokes had she bedded just on the legs alone? While San Francisco weather didn’t permit wearing shorts all the time, many men in California wore them year-round, no matter if the weather was 15C and full of pea-soup fog. And Alicia found she had quite the thing for men with great legs in shorts.

Soon, she found Oliver’s smiling face coming towards her, his hands full with two glasses and a bottle of Old Ogden’s Firewhisky. “I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t get you your fancy wine. Thought I’d get you started on the ‘welcome home’ party,” he said.

“Not at all. It’s been a while since I’ve seen my main man Ogden. I have some very fond memories of the two of us having good times together.” She picked up the bottle and poured them both a two-finger measure.

“Really? Do tell, Miss Spinnet. Could it be you hid Mr. Ogden in the loose stones behind your bed in girls’ dorm in Gryffindor Tower?”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” she replied, taking a sip. Her breath caught as the amber liquid burned a familiar path down her throat. Damn, but she’d missed it. “What happens in the girls’ dorm in GT, stays in the girls’ dorm in GT.”

“So that’s how it is, then,” Oliver replied cheekily. “To your good health.” He raised his glass to her.

“And to you. Nice kilt, by the way.”

“Ah, like it, do you? I get the piss taken out of me all the time for wearing it, but I don’t feel right coming to formal events without it. My da taught me that from when I was a wee lad. ‘Tis a sign of family pride and how we Scots honour our guests.

“Well, I am honoured that you’ve worn it, and have gifted us with the sight of your truly outstanding legs.” _Oh, bugger. Did I just say that?_

Oliver’s face lit up. “Then this is a magical night for me. It’s not often a pretty lady compliments me on my kilt and my legs.”

Alicia waved a dismissive hand. “You’re having me on. You cannot tell me the female fans don’t flock round you after every match, and that they aren’t eager to be taken home by one of the league’s most eligible bachelors.”

“Ah, well, don’t I wish. There’re a lot of those kinds of men in Quidditch locker rooms, I’ll tell you. Once I get out, the best of the lot’s usually taken.” He took a long draw of the whisky. “Not that I’m complaining, but I’m not exactly burning up the covers of Quidditch Weekly.

“Now you’re having me on, for sure.” Alicia was positive he was just being modest. She noticed a lot of the party-goers standing for a long minute in front of their table, before moved on. Several press people, including two reporters--one male, the other female-- she knew from their mutual time at Hogwarts, passed by their table with that keen ‘gotta get the interview’ looks on their faces. No, Oliver was definitely making a splash, and she was riding the ripples with him.

That thought made her a teeny bit nervous, so she held out her glass which he refilled quickly. “No, really, the press leave me alone for the most part,” he said. “I give them an interview a couple of times a year, sit for the charitable calendar shoot, visit St. Mungo’s on Quidditch days, and then the rest of the time is mine alone.”

“Really? Because the press in America is much more pushy and intrusive than it is here. I was hounded quite a lot,” Alicia said with a trace of bitterness. “I had to leave the Wizarding area of San Francisco just to get a peaceful supper out with friends. I loved eating in Chinatown because not only was the food fantastic, but no one knew a damn thing about Quidditch.” She downed the drink in one.

“I thought you might cause quite a stir,” Oliver said. “Pretty girls—sorry, women such as yourself are few and far between in the Quidditch leagues. I’m not surprised.”

The two lapsed into silence, nursing another drink. Alicia kept trying to sneak some glances at her companion, but noticed the Oliver wasn’t trying to hide the fact he was staring at her.

“Oliver!” she giggled. The firewhisky was beginning to make her feel warm and lightheaded. “What are you looking at?”

“The prettiest woman at the party,” he stated boldly. “And one of the nicest, truth be told. I loved my last year at Hogwarts mostly because of my Quidditch team. You guys were the best.”

Oliver’s passionate, though alcohol-fueled, declaration made her feel even warmer. “You’re right. We were the best team. And we were the best team because you made us that way. Cheers!”

They clinked glasses and drank. Oliver gave her another brilliant and knee-weakening smile. And this time she couldn’t resist.

“Come on,” she said, standing. “I haven’t been to this museum since I was little, probably right before I went off to Hogwarts. I’d like to see some of the exhibits.” She held out her hand to him.

He threw back the rest of his drink, and rose. “I would love to see them with you, then.”

The two weaved back through the crowd towards the main exhibition area. The large space held panels about the very beginning of Quidditch: a replica of Queerditch Marsh; the broom owned by Guthrie Lochrin in the 1100’s; a tapestry from the 12th century showing how Golden Snidgets were caught and used as the first snitches.

As they walked around, Oliver went from holding her hand to holding her waist, his strong arm about her. Alicia found she loved being so close to him; he smelled of Old Ogden’s and something a little more masculine. It was enthralling. She pressed herself against his side, and was rewarded with a squeeze and another smile.

Alicia and Oliver both gave a little gasp when they rounded the corner and found a vast space with a number of Quidditch stadiums on display. They ran to the closest one: a section of the stands from Hogwarts.

“Very cool,” Oliver said, looking at the banner-draped wooden stands. “The banners look a lot like the ones from our time.”

“But they’re really old,” Alicia said, reading from the display information. “Good heavens, these are from the early 1500’s!”

“Really? I wonder what’s under the stands. How are they made?” Oliver went around to the back of the exhibit. “Hey, we can walk under here. Look at this!”

Oliver pulled her under the stands where they looked at the intricate wood-work that held the bleachers above them. They were concealed by the banners.

“Ever snog under the stands when you were at school?” he asked, his voice low and breathy in her ear, his arms encircled her from behind.

“A fair few times,” she said, leaning into his chest, and breathing in his scent. “It was always the best place, especially after practices.”

“Why is it that we never went out?” His hot breath tickled the sensitive spot under her ear. She couldn’t help but squirm in his arms, which tightened around her.

“I don’t know. Maybe because you never asked.”

“My definite oversight, then,” he breathed, turning her in his arms so that she faced him finally. “Accept my apologies?”

She nodded her head just as he gently, hesitantly leaned in and took her lips with his.  


Sweetly insistent and warm, Oliver controlled the kisses deftly. He bided his time, each kiss growing with intensity, never overpowering. Alicia found herself falling into a well of butterflies and passion. Never had she been kissed with such sweetness. Usually men just crushed their lips to hers and jammed their tongues in at first touch. It was repulsive, and wet. But Oliver never pushed. He ran the very tip of his tongue across the seam of her lips, lightly enough to keep the kiss going. Bright spots exploded behind her closed eyes each time he delicately wet her lips. Then he drew back, breathing hard, and pressed his forehead to hers. “Don’t stop,” she found herself saying. “Why did you stop?”

He smiled again. “Then I won’t.” This time she met him halfway. This time there was no hesitation on either of their parts. Her mouth opened willingly, and Oliver obliged her, his tongue surging forth. Alicia felt her knees buckle ever so slightly as their kiss deepened; his arms tightened around her as she swayed.

One hand threaded through her hair, and held her head as they shifted to lean against a large pole. His other hand fumbled with something at his waist. Curious, she broke the kiss to give his a questioning look.

He looked a little sheepish, and then laughed. “I…erm…well, my sporran, you see. It’s sort of…”

“In the way?” she finished. Just as the buckle on the sporran strap gave way, she caught the offending item. “It most definitely was.” She pulled it from between them and dropped it carefully to the carpeted floor. Now freed from its barrier, Oliver’s erection stood firmly between them.

“Is it true what they say about a man in a kilt?” she asked, boldly smoothing the lump of tartan.

Oliver gave an appreciative groan. “Yes, it is. All of it. Very true. And I am a very true Scotsman.”

“That is”--very hot? Incredibly sexy?--“most convenient. Even moreso that I am a witch with a very convenient talent.”

“Really?” Oliver pulled her close to him again, rubbing his hard length along her hip. “What can you do?”

Alicia closed her eyes and repeated a short phrase. When she opened them again, she was holding her knickers in one hand.

Oliver’s eyes widened. “You can do wandless magic?” he said, impressed. He took the wisp of lace and pressed it wickedly to his nose.

Alicia became more aroused as he inhaled her scent. No man had ever done that before. And the look on his face as he did it—god, could he have been sexier? She gulped. “Just that one thing. Handy, really. Don’t you agree?”

Without another word, he dropped her panties and they fell onto each other, lips locking, hands pushing aside fabric to touch, to feel their most intimate parts. She lifted the apron of his kilt and found his hard, throbbing cock; she took it in hand, gliding along its length, and found the head. She gave it a tweak, causing him to gasp.

He never broke the kiss, though, and his hands, questing and gentle, moved over her thighs, and then higher, in the crease between her leg and hip. She quivered under his touch as his hand moved gently to cup her sex, massaging it. Alicia mirrored him, squeezing his cock as she used the pre-come to lubricate it; he gave a low groan as she rubbed the underside of the sensitive head. Oliver then parted and slid a finger into her wet folds, and moaned again as he found the engorged clit.

Alicia gasped into his mouth as he stroked her. She gripped his cock tighter, speeding up her fondling as he increased his. She felt herself quickly spinning out of control as he moved her toward ecstasy. This isn’t happening. Not with Oliver. But it is. He’s…oh god, yes… “Oh god, Oliver!” she moaned aloud. Breaking the kiss she tipped her head back, and realized…they were still in the museum.

“Oliver—wait!” she whispered frantically. “Oliver, we’re in a public place. We have to…”

His eyes widened, but he was obviously not thinking along the same line. “Alicia,” he hissed, “I’m close. I’m gonna—“

“Me, too,” she gasped. “Can you cast—oh, Merlin.” Oliver stroked her clit several more times, bringing her ever closer. All thought of modesty and museum exhibits flew out of her head. She spread her legs, and pushed harder against his hand, encouraging him—and he took her meaning, plunging two fingers in her very wet heat. She moaned again as he massaged her, and the thought they might be heard or even discovered sent a profound thrill through her, amazing her even more.

“God,” he ground out, “you’re—god.”

He crushed his lips to hers and seconds later, Alicia’s hand was covered with his come. Oliver bore down relentlessly on her clit; she felt the orgasm building quickly and as it hit, she broke their kiss, burying her face in his sweaty neck to muffle her cry. Riding the crest of her orgasm, she held onto him for dear life itself.

Slowly, their breathing returned to normal. Then they heard a male voice outside the stands, “Did you hear that?”

_Oh, god, no_ , she thought.

“Yeah, think so. What d’you think it was?” said a second voice.

“Sounded like someone having a good time,” the first one sniggered. “Perhaps we should check it out.”

“Nah, leave it. Besides, I think I need to find the loo.”

“Give you a stiffy, did it?” the first voice chuckled. “Why don’t we…” The voices trailed off.

Oliver and Alicia looked at each other, terror evident in each other’s eyes. But as the two voyeurs moved away, their terror transformed into amusement. They held onto each other, silently laughing like naughty children.

“Oh my god,” she said. “Oh my god, I’ve never done…I’m not this person.”

Oliver slowly removed his hand from under her skirt, then arranged the front of his kilt. He pulled his wand from his stocking to perform silent cleansing spell. “I’m so sorry, Alicia. I don’t do this either, ever. It’s just…” He looked away, trying to come up with the words, but all he could do is shake his head.

Alicia grabbed his head. “Look at me,” she commanded softly. “I don’t do this, but I’m not sorry. About any of this. Especially you.” She kissed him.

Oliver returned the kiss with intensity and then hugged her closely. “We have to get out of here. I don’t fancy just walking through the exhibit bold as brass, not since our two ‘guests’ may be lurking to find us out.” He looked into her eyes. “Do you trust me?”  


“Of course,” she replied without hesitation.

“Gather your things. I’m getting us out of here.”

With Oliver’s sporran strapped around his waist again and her bag secured over her shoulder, he lifted his wand. “Ready?” He pulled her close with one arm.

Side-Along Apparition was never her favourite thing, but the alternative was even more unattractive. The blind squeezing ended abruptly as they landed in a dark room. “Lumos! Lumos!”

Oliver’s wand and several lights came on. They were in his flat she presumed, given the state of disarray. “Oh dear,” Oliver said, “I’m sorry it’s such a wreck.”

“No problem. I just moved so my place is even worse.”

They stood in the middle of the living room, awkwardness quickly filling the silence.

“Alicia,” he said finally, “I’m just as amazed as you are, no doubt, but you…this…I haven’t felt this way about anyone in ages. It’s …you’re …are you okay with this?”

Alicia felt a giggle bubbling up through her chest. She let it out and threw her head back as Oliver’s face dissolved into dismay.

“Oh, Oliver! You are so sweet. And I have to tell you, you’re one hell of a great kisser. I don’t do this sort of thing either, but it’s you! I know you, and I obviously trust you, and I must admit I’ve always had a soft place for you in my heart.” She hugged him again.

He looked relieved, then favoured her with a wide, sweet smile. “Really?”

“Really. I was so glad to see you tonight.”

“And me you.” He leant in and kissed her again, this time it was the same gentle kiss that had started them towards passion. “Stay here with me?” he breathed.

She nodded, allowing herself to be led by the hand.

*~*


End file.
